


If Walls Could Talk

by going rogue (onlyastoryteller)



Series: A Room For The Night [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Governors Awards, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 20:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16817527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/going%20rogue
Summary: After the 2018 Governors Awards, the boys retire to Tim's hotel room.





	If Walls Could Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachesatmidnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesatmidnight/gifts).



> I've been sitting on this for a bit, and thought I'd finish it and post it for those of you awaiting the continuation of Cor Cordium. (I'm working on that, still in the necessary development hiatus, but it is coming, I promise.) Especially since I won't get to write those versions of these two together and fluffy for some time, I needed another outlet. So you get this.
> 
> 100% fiction, I wasn't there.
> 
> I'm dedicating this to PeachesAtMidnite, who deserves it. Enjoy!

**If Walls Could Talk**

The hotel room was silent.

It was dim, but not dark. The only lamp lit was the one on the left night table. The drapes had been drawn by housekeeping, the king-sized bed turned down, chocolates waiting on the pillows. 

Despite its emptiness, there was a charge in the air, as if the room was waiting. In a way, it was. It had seen it before, what was about to happen. It would see it again. 

From outside the room, there was laughter and the sound of a scuffle.

“Would you cut it—Timmy, let me—for the love of—“

There was a loud click, and the door swung open.

Two men lurched into the room. The larger one was carrying the smaller one piggyback, though it didn’t look by choice. 

Once inside, the smaller man placed a loud, smacking kiss on the larger man’s neck, then jumped to the ground and looked around. 

“Chocolates!” he said, loping towards the bed. He leaped at the last moment and landed with a bounce on his stomach, letting out an undignified “oof.”

The larger man closed the door and locked it, then secured it with the safety latch. By the time he turned around, the other had rolled onto his back and was throwing a wrapped chocolate up into the air and catching it, over and over. 

“Timmy…”

The smaller man — Timmy — grinned and threw the candy at the larger man. 

“Think fast,” he said, snickering as the other reached out and caught it easily. He unwrapped the second chocolate and popped it into his mouth, groaning. “These are so. Good.”

“Jesus, what has gotten into you tonight?” asked the larger man. He was smiling at Timmy and shaking his head, his expression full of affection. “I mean, I know we smoked in the bathroom, but even before that you—“

“Armie. Eat your chocolate. It’s good for you. Antioxidants,” said Timmy. 

“I’m not hungry,” Armie replied, setting the chocolate on the desk. “And don’t change the subject. That was cute on the red carpet — you totally got me by surprise, I loved that — but you’re like...extra high.”

“Come here.” Timmy propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re far away.”

“And what was with the ‘he’s my lover’ bit? That was—“

“It was hilarious.” Timmy sprang up from the bed and began to move around the room, hands flitting over every surface. “You should have  _ seen  _ your face.”

“I can only imagine. You know it’s going to get back to her.”

“Good.” Timmy stopped in front of Armie and bounced on his toes. “It was so much fun tonight. You…” he placed his hands on Armie’s chest, smoothing at his lapels, “...you look so fucking hot in this. All the black, the texture, the bowtie...I knew as soon as I saw you that all the swearing I had done that I would be  _ good _ tonight was bullshit.”

Armie blushed slightly and ran his hands up and down Timmy’s arms, then to his collar, slipping his fingers in and out of the lacy cutouts in Timmy’s jacket. “You look good, too. This is...fun.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Timmy breathed. Then he giggled again. “This night. This night was the best night.” He continued to bounce up and down as he checked off the meaningful moments. “First, the universe  _ loves _ us because otherwise how did we end up on the red carpet at the same time without fucking planning it? Then, you’re here alone so I get you all to myself. People were awesome tonight. You—“ Timmy poked Armie in the chest, “—were there, you just kept being there, like you wanted to be around me even though we’re not supposed to make it obvious, and I’m usually the one who can’t be cool but you ran after me in front of those cameras and kept coming over and—“

“Okay, you need to calm down,” said Armie, settling his hands on Timmy’s shoulders. 

“I think you need to calm  _ up. _ ” Timmy bounced up and planted a kiss on Armie’s cheek, then spun away. 

Armie let out an exasperated laugh. “Calm up? That’s not a thing. You can’t — there’s no — stop making up words.” Timmy continued to spin around the room, and as he twirled by, Armie grabbed at him and missed. “Stop that. Come here.”

Timmy was back in a second, wrapping his arms around Armie’s neck and threading his fingers in Armie’s hair. 

“I didn’t make up a word. I took two ready-made words and created a new phrase. It’s a perfectly fine phrase.”

Now Timmy raised himself up on his toes and kissed Armie fully, his lips parting in invitation. Armie didn’t need more than that, immediately sliding his hands up Timmy’s back and deepening the kiss. 

But then Timmy was gone, bouncing into the bathroom with a giggle. Armie sank onto the bed rubbing at his cheeks and forehead with a groan. He removed a ring from his left hand and laid it on the nightstand next to the single lit lamp.

“Timmy,” he called. “Come back.” When the only answer was a laugh, he stood. “You better not be undressing yourself. That’s my fucking job.”

When Timmy appeared in the doorway, he hadn’t gotten undressed but for one thing: he had removed the white t-shirt that had been on under his jacket. Armie sucked in a breath. Now, Timmy’s pale skin showed through all the little decorative cutouts. 

The giddiness had evaporated from Timmy’s face. “I thought this way would be more fun,” he said. He took in Armie’s gaze and tensed.

Armie stalked toward Timmy, a determined expression on his face. Timmy stood his ground, his eyes darkening shade by shade as the larger man advanced. When Armie reached Timmy, he slowly reached out a hand.

Timmy held his breath, waiting, watching that hand move through the air frame by frame, until Armie’s fingers rested on Timmy’s chest, just over the cutouts. Timmy’s breath came out in a whoosh as the heat from Armie’s palm penetrated the small holes and crackled over his skin.

“Shit,” murmured Armie.

Then he was in motion, hauling Timmy over his shoulder. Timmy laughed in surprise as he was flung onto his back on the bed, but the laughter was cut short when Armie didn’t give him time to recover, crawling on top of him and covering Timmy’s mouth with his own.

When Armie tore his mouth from Timmy’s, he began to explore the cutouts with his tongue and teeth, accessing maddeningly small samples of what he wanted most in the world. Timmy writhed under the attentions, gasping at the wet, heated sensation on not-quite-enough of him in a way that was destined to drive him insane.

Armie tugged at the holes with his teeth, and Timmy grabbed at his hair.

“Careful,” he muttered. “If you wreck this, Haider’s gonna kill me.”

“I’m the one who’s wrecking it, let him kill me instead,” Armie rumbled in between licks.

“Same difference, really,” breathed Timmy, but he let Armie bite and suck around the edges of the details and stopped caring about the consequences.

Eventually, as if it they were at the very edge of a cliff, both men growled as one and Armie yanked the jacket from Timmy’s frame, hurling it to the side. The rest of their meticulously styled outfits followed, creating a symbol of designer-level desire on the carpet.

If the temperature in the room dropped a bit in consideration of their heating skin, they were unaware. If the clock on the wall silenced its ticking in order to not disturb their mingled sounds, it went unnoticed. If the lamp on the nightstand dimmed several degrees, heightening the shadows cast by their movement, neither man cared.

Later, amid soft sighs and hummed contentment, they flipped off the single lamp, burrowed under the down comforter, and nestled into the 800-count sheets, arms wrapped tightly around one another.

“You didn’t  _ just _ say you were my lover,” said Armie, into the quiet. “You said something else, too.”

There was a beat. Then, Timmy replied, “I said you were my Oliver.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure I...like that.”

“Really?” Timmy pulled away slightly, trying to see Armie’s face in the darkened room. “Why?”

Armie shrugged, the comforter bunching up around his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because...that’s the story. That’s the character. We’re not them.”

Timmy grinned and settled back down. “I know.”

“I mean, I don’t want to  _ just _ be your Oliver. That’s like...saying that this, what we have, is just an extension of our characters. I like to think it’s more than that.” He began to trace his fingers up and down Timmy’s spine, evoking a sigh.

“It is,” said Timmy. “I can’t believe you’d question that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Of course. I just said that because...well. I was telling people, out loud, that you’re my lover. And I meant it. I want them to know. But since they can’t...I knew they’d take it as a joke, from the movie and everything. Adding the bit about Oliver just helped them make that choice.” He snuggled closer. “You started as my Oliver, but now…”

“Now?” prompted Armie, when Timmy trailed off.

“Now you’re my Armie. You’re my lover. You’re...everything.”

Armie kissed Timmy then, and held him close.

After a few minutes, their breathing deepened and slowed as they descended into sleep.

In the morning, there were soft caresses and smiles, lazy kisses and some not-so-lazy noises from the bathroom while they showered. They dressed and gathered their things, straightened their clothing, and then, with one last glance around the room, Armie took Timmy’s hand and they left, discussing the merits of having pancakes or eggs for breakfast.

The door clicked shut behind them. The lights were brighter now, even though the curtains were still drawn. The bedclothes were rumpled, the pillows dented, and a forgotten ring had rolled into the corner behind the desk.

The hotel room was silent.


End file.
